“Things stay with you, they say, and the past grows into a living organism that you can never really shake off. Everything you've ever done, the good and the bad, is supposed to always be on your trail, breathing down your neck. Time acts on it, people say, or so they hope, and eventually some of it even gets forgotten, buried deep within.”

“A smile bloomed again in his eyes. "I love that you let me bring out that softness in you. You've always been such a tough little trooper, but under that snappy, tough act you put on, you're butter-soft. Sweet as honey. And I can get there! Make that softness come up. I'm so ... honored by it”

“He lowered his mouth to mine anyway, close enough that our lips almost brushed for a millisecond before his glided across my cheek, his breath laying a fiery trail from the corner of my mouth to my ear."I'm not going to kiss you, Lily," he whispered. "I'm patient. I'll wait until you want it bad enough."[...]"You'll be asking for it soon," he added. "No hesitation.”

“Okay, so maybe it was unexpected freedom of being able to get up-close and personal with him without having every inch of me quivering in pain that was doing the talking, but still. I couldn't remember ever experiencing freedom like this before: the warm sun, the caressing wind, his body warm and solid beneath my arms, a perfect blue sky above us. Clichéd? Maybe, but guess what? Also about as close to perfection as anyone can hope to get. Happiness can be so absurdly simple sometimes.”

“Picture this: possible boyfriend X takes normal girl versus freak girl, namely me, home to meet his mother. After a handshake, normal girl comments, Oh, what a pretty manicure, Mrs. X. My comment? After I wipe away the foam at my mouth, and I'm finally done convulsing, Mrs, X, you'll die in a car crash two weeks from today. You may as well take care of the arrangements because I'm never wrong. And we live happily ever after? Fat chance.”

“Live like [me] for seventeen years and you either start seeing boys as chocolate-covered French éclairs on legs, the kind packing a thousand calories apiece, strictly hands-off, or you stop seeing them at all.”

“You've been following me around.""No", he denied, without flinching."Gosh", I scoffed, "I had no idea the woods were rigged with TV cameras. My bad."One of the corners of his mouth twitched.”